


There's not a word yet

by Petra



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: Catharsis, Cunnilingus, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, bereavement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13237899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: Being good in bed is not synonymous with being strong in the Force, or with being good at sex. Dammit.





	There's not a word yet

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sage for listening and Hannah for beta-reading.

Leia tastes like the standard soap the Rebellion uses in its refreshers and all the kisses and all they've drunk since they scrambled the base on Yavin IV and after a few quick tugs on his hair, she tastes like herself, sweet-salt and dangerous. She spreads under Luke's tongue and laughs and sighs and pulls him in, closer, until it's hard to breathe.

He's used to holding his breath between long shots, to get the aim just right, to flick his fingers and his tongue just so--she groans and this time Han's the one who laughs, who touches her somewhere, holds her wrists or her ankles and says, "Careful, Your Highness."

"I don't want to be careful." She sounds young, pleasure-drunk and just plain drunk, and she's rocking her hips against Luke's face. "More, please, I can't--"

He couldn't make her wait. It's like her racing pulse is pounding in his heart, too, and pushing him on. Down another canyon to a target but this one is as big as a sun, whatever stupid jokes the guys made. Luke couldn't miss this if he tried. All he has to do is give her what she needs, and it's as clear as if he'd managed to bend around himself, just like this, just this fast, and she's scratching at his scalp, saying his name again, and "Yes," and when she tenses he goes tense, too, like this is the thing his body's been waiting for this whole long, miserable, glorious day, and the world is bright as a lightsaber behind his eyes.

"Don't stop," she says, and he couldn't, any more than he can imagine spending a day apart from her.

"Don't stop, don't, stop, don't. Stop," she says, her shoulders shaking, and she's crying.

Luke sits up and nearly cracks his head against Han's. "What did I do wrong?" he asks. His jaw aches and his fingers are the kind of water-wizened he thought people from other planets made up. And somewhere in there he came in his shorts, but that doesn't matter. "I'm sorry."

Leia has her hands over her face. "You didn't. Just go. Leave me alone."

"Hey, now," Han says, lying down with a centimeter between himself and Leia. "Maybe you forgot where you ended up, but you're in my rack."

"If she wants us to leave, we're leaving." Luke glares at him and wishes he knew how to use the Force. A real Jedi could pick Han up by the scruff of his neck and get him out of there and probably get him dressed along the way.

Leia shakes her head. "No, I'll go." She sits up, tugging her tunic down. "I shouldn't be here. It's not--it wasn't about you." She swallows heavily and for a moment she looks poised, or she looks like she'd look poised if she wasn't also crying. "I'll go back to my bunk and let you do whatever you wish."

Han, naked, is extremely promising, but Luke has the distinct sense that it won't be hard to get him naked again some other time when Leia isn't hurting. "Can I come with you?" Luke asks.

"I'd like to be alo--" she doesn't finish saying the word before she's in tears again. Han shrugs at Luke, who shakes his head and hugs her. Nobody who can't even say they want to be alone actually wants to be alone. She cries on his shoulder instead of shoving him away. That's two for Luke, probably, as long as he doesn't count one against himself for keeping going when she said "Don't stop" and really meant "Don't! Stop!"

"It's been a long, hard day," he says, rocking her a little the way Aunt Beru used to rock him when he was sick. The thought makes him tear up.

She didn't even get to see her family the way he did.

Maybe they were off-planet.

He knows better than to ask.

Luke kisses her temple. "Can I help you take your hair down?"

Leia's fingers tighten in his shirt. "My mother put my hair into these spirals. Not this same pair, obviously--they need to be redone regularly--but when I take them down, I shall have to put my hair into a mourning braid for Alderaan." She rests her forehead against his chest. "As long as I wear them, I am my parents' daughter. When I take them down, that is the day I admit to myself that they are gone."

"Doesn't matter what you do with your hair, they're still with you," Han says, no teasing in his voice. "Them and all the things they ever taught you. How to shoot like a demon. How to walk like you own any ship you're on." He touches her free shoulder. "I may be a smuggler, and I may be drunk enough I don't know where I left my boots, but you two can sleep in my rack tonight if you want, or any night. I'll just be off to find you some of Mama Solo's Miracle Cure. If you don't need it, it tastes like somebody strained it through sweaty socks. If you do, well, drink up."

Leia clears her throat. "Thank you," she says, and she sounds about half like her normal self. "I am sorry, Luke, but I'm rather indisposed."

Luke tries to figure out what she's apologizing for. It takes a while to get to any possible answer that makes sense, and when he gets to one, he shakes his head. "You needed what you needed. I just wanted you to feel good."

"Another time?" she says, and kisses his cheek.

"Sure." He's still fuzzy from drinking entirely too much, and she could warm him right up again, but it's not a good time for that. Besides, he'd better get to the 'fresher before Han finds out he's a mess and makes fun of him. That would be a great way to make "another time" into "never again, you uncultured lout."

Han comes back with three bottles of something that has a certain foot-like scent but a pretty inoffensive flavor. He hands them two, then says, "Here goes nothing," and chugs his serving.

Luke and Leia shrug at each other, then drink theirs. It's not nearly as bad as he'd warned them it would be, which implies that they might need it. "Thanks," Luke says, and hands his empty bottle back to Han, who nods and gets rid of them.

"You tired yourself out, Your Highness?'

"What with one thing and another, yes," she says.

"Well, as it's my rack, I'd usually call the middle, but you can have it if you want it," Han says generously.

Leia purses her lips and settles in. "Thanks."

Luke kisses her cheek. "I'll be right back." It's a bit of a fight with the 'fresher before he's clean enough to be ready to sleep, and then he runs into Threepio and has to tell him to keep quiet. "Actually, whose are you, anyway, right now?"

Threepio waves his arms and considers this. "Arguably we are yours, Master Luke, unless you intend to give us to the Rebellion."

"Maybe in a few days. But before that transfer goes through, while you're still officially mine, do me a favor. If anyone's looking for Princess Leia, tell them she's on the kind of leave you get when someone in your family dies, okay?"

"Bereavement leave. Why, sir, is that accurate? I did not know! I must send my condolences at once!"

"No, she's sleeping. I'll tell her you said, all right?" Luke lowers his voice. "What would be the usual amount on Alderaan for the loss of both parents?"

Threepio calculates. "A standard month, at minimum."

Luke closes his eyes. "She'd never agree to that. They need her too much. Well--let's start with three days, and if she needs more time than that before she sees anybody, we'll do something. I don't know what, but something." He runs his fingers through his hair and tries to imagine Leia taking a break without falling apart. If he had anything to give her but the quickest, fastest comfort, he would. All he can do is listen, and that's not worth much. "Okay, Threepio. She's on bereavement leave."

"As you say, sir."

When he gets back to Han's rack, he almost leaves them alone. Leia's snuggled up in his arms asleep and she looks comfortable. But Han opens his eyes and gestures to him, so Luke peels his tunic off and curls up with them, a little too tightly for comfort at first.

The warmth of their bodies means that when he starts to dream of the Death Star and bodies freezing in space, none of the cold flash-freezing extremities reaches his. The soft breathing in his ears means that when he wakes from a nightmare of the homestead burning, Leia strokes his hair until he relaxes back into sleep. He wakes another time with her clutching his hand, saying, "No, no, I won't tell."

He says, "You're safe."

She shudders, then asks, "Luke?"

"I'm right here," he says softly, half-asleep. "We're together, and we're safe."

Leia falls asleep, her hand curled around his wrist.


End file.
